Again I recoiled, thus making my second mistake, for an instant later I knew he had picked up a helve and with this was sweeping the chamber to find me out. The moment the helve had sailed back I should have advanced: but I had let the chance go.
I was now fairly back in my corner, when again I heard the helve touch—this time the wall on my right. This to my horror, for it showed that the cast which Rose Noble was making was almost done and that in four or five seconds the fellow’s terrible instinct would have its reward.
I, therefore, dropped on one knee and set my left hand on the flags, the better to steady my aim: but I knew that the odds were against me, because the moment he touched me he would know where to fire, whilst I could not possibly tell to within some two or three feet.
Rose Noble moved like a cat, giving no sound. Only the helve touched again, this time very close. I could hear the lap of the water and feel the air from the shoot flirting my face. And then, all of a sudden, I saw a bare chance of escape.
The flap when sunk into place, lay flush with the pavement, and so was supported by a ledge running around the shoot, cut out of the stone. This ledge was two inches in width—wide enough to give handhold to a desperate man.
Hardly waiting to pocket my pistol, I entered the shoot, and a moment later I was altogether out of the gallery, yet able to reenter at will, hanging by my hands from the ledge, staring up into the chamber to mark what I could.
I heard Rose Noble above me, tapping all around with the helve: I could hear his breathing quite close, and something wet fell from him on to my upturned face. This was blood: so I knew that I must have cut him with one of the tins. Suddenly I heard him stiffen and hold his breath. Then he turned round; and, as in a theatre, by some trick of production to pretend the coming of dawn, you may see the forms of men grow gradually out of the darkness, so I saw the monster begin to take shape.
He was standing crouched, with his knees well bent and his left leg a little advanced: his great head was up and his jaw jutted out like a peak: in his left hand he held the helve and in his right was his pistol, pointed and ready to fire: his pistol arm was crooked and steady as any rock.
He had but to drop his eyes for them to light upon me: but he did not, keeping them fixed, instead, upon what I judged must be the foot of the ramp.
All this I saw at first dimly, but gradually more and more clear, to my great astonishment; for the effect was magical, and I could think of no earthly explanation.
Then in a flash my brain cleared, and I knew it for the work of the searchlight, which Mansel or Hanbury was carrying down the ramp. They must have entered the dungeon by way of the trap and, hearing no sound from the gallery, were hastening thither in a concern for me which could wait upon no risks.
And here was I out of action: and there was Rose Noble, like a fowler, watching a bird come down into his snare.
There was only one thing to be done.
“Look out! Rose Noble!” I yelled, and let myself go.
It was a rough passage and cost me a lot of skin: but, of course, I fell down like a stone and was, I suppose, under water before Rose Noble had recovered from his surprise. For he never fired.
A moment later I was swimming downstream.
And that was the end of my adventure; for I had hardly landed upon the castle side, when out of the forest came Rowley and asked me if I was unhurt.
At first I thought I was dreaming, but he said that he had come straight from the staircase-turret, after letting the others into the oubliette. His orders were to put back the slabs, destroy every trace of their removal and then lie close in the woods till break of day. He was then to cross the river, and, if he saw a towel in a window, to come to the shoot.
But I would not wait so long, because I feared that, finding me gone, when he had dispatched Rose Noble, Mansel would go out in my quest. So, since the boat was at hand, we at once sculled back to the shoot and there, sure enough, met Mansel about to go out after Rowley and then after me.
“Are you hurt?” said he at once.
“Not a scratch,” said I. “Where’s Rose Noble?”
“Upstream, I think,” said Mansel, climbing into the boat.
Then he bade me go up to the gallery and expect him and Rowley again in ten minutes’ time. When I asked him where he was going, he said, “To bestow the boat.”
When I was up in the chamber, I was not surprised that he had asked me if I was hurt, for, though there was little disorder, blood was all over the place. We afterwards learned that this came from Rose Noble’s head, which I had cut open—most likely with the first tin I threw. And this shows how tough the man was, for all his grossness: for the tin must have weighed three pounds, and I flung it with all my might.
Hanbury had little to tell, beyond that, as Mansel surmised, he had lost his way in the dark and, horrified at hearing my
